


Breakfast in Bed (Part One)

by phantisma



Series: Breakfast in Bed [1]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part way through season 4, The Beast has blotted out the sun, Faith has come on the scene, and Lilah is dead.  Very dark bit where Angelus comes looking for Wesley and finds him in a moment of weakness, when the events of his life are weighing heavily on him and though Angelus came to kill Wesley, he finds he has other ideas...and what follows culminates in Wesley's transformation into a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast in Bed (Part One)

Wesley closed the door and dropped his keys on the table, followed by the gun in his belt, the knife from his boot and the stake in its sheath up his sleeve. He looked around the apartment wearily. It seemed a lifetime since he had been here last, though it had only been hours. He shed his coat and dropped it on the chair, already unbuttoning his shirt as he moved toward the bedroom. He moved through the apartment with his eyes half closed. He was tired. God was he tired.

The bathroom mirror only echoed the sentiment back to him, sunken eyes in dark circles peered out of a face older than he remembered being. More than a day’s growth added a darkness to his countenance that echoed the darkness growing inside him.

With a heavy sigh, he finished pulling off his clothes and climbed in the shower. The holes in the wall from Faith’s brief time there stared back at him as he turned on the water and let it poor over him. He understood the rage that she held within her, even if he couldn’t feel it.

Rage would be welcome, anything to drown out the numbness, the self doubt, the nagging suspicion that his father was right. His every step in the last year had been on the wrong path. From stealing the baby right through taking Angel’s soul and letting Angelus out of his exile, it had all been wrong.

He’d kid himself into believing it was all for the right reasons. He’d tried to embrace the darkness and hold on to the light at the same time. It was little wonder he was so torn inside.

Wesley spit water out and turned so that it ran down his back, bracing himself on the wall of the shower stall. He hurt in so many places he couldn’t count anymore. He couldn’t name the battle, let alone the blow that had bruised him, cut him, even burned him. None of the marks on his body meant anything, none save one.

It was her mark, the last vestige of Lilah’s place in his life. She had scratched him when they had last been together, three lines above his right nipple, each an inch long. He had always been at his darkest when he was with Lilah, but it had never really fit. He apparently lacked the capacity for true evil, just as he apparently lacked the capacity to achieve anything truly good.

He felt betrayed by that thought, as if admitting to his weaknesses somehow made him less of himself. He was too tired to be angry though. Too tired, too numb. Angelus was free, the sky was black. The end of the world was coming…Faith was hunting and they all looked to him…and it was too much. Wesley closed his eyes and leaned into the wall, letting the hot water fall on his lower back.

Too much.

Wesley felt caught, impotent, trapped. The expectations had always been high, and he had never met them. It didn’t seem to stop people from expecting things of him. It didn’t seem to stop him from believing he could do the things expected of him.

Until now. He turned away from the thought, turned his face into the water as if it could wash it all away. He didn’t believe anymore.

The water had begun to cool, and Wesley turned it off, stepping slowly from the shower to wrap a towel around his waist. The tile floor was cool under his feet, but gave way quickly to carpet as he moved into his room.

He felt the familiar presence before he heard or saw the vampire, and he only stopped walking to acknowledge him. “Can we do this another time, Angelus?” he asked, his voice sounding heavy in his ears. “I’m in no mood.”

Wesley was painfully aware that he was nearly naked and completely unarmed as Angelus moved out of the shadows behind the bedroom door. Angelus shrugged with a smirk. “What’s the matter Wes? Lose a friend?”

Wesley didn’t rise to the bait, only slowly turned to see the face that was nearly as familiar as his own. “I’ve had a long week. I’m not in the mood for more sparring with you. If you came to kill me, do it already and spare me the gloating and incessant chatter.”

He knew he wouldn’t get around Angelus to get out of the room. He knew he wouldn’t survive a fight. He could feel the fatigue in his bones. Wesley just wanted to sleep…even if that meant death.

“What, no heroic last stand? No lectures? No grand resistance?”

Angelus stood near him now, his face gone fully vamp, his hands on his hips. “This is not the Wesley I came for.”

Wesley let out a soft chuckle. “Maybe I’m not the man you think I am,” he said. He looked at Angelus. The nearness of the vampire set his mind running down corridors of fantasy he would never admit to. Lilah had captured some of that for him, the bad boy, the rejection of being “good” and indulging the darker desires of his body. But Lilah wasn’t Angelus.

And Lilah was dead. Angelus leaned closer, his face only inches from Wesley. “Oh, I think you are exactly the man I think you are.”

His breath smelled of blood and wine. Angelus moved away. “You’re just sore cause I fed on your girl.”

Wesley struggled with his need to deny her and his need to embrace what he was feeling. She was dead. He hadn’t loved her. He had used her. He had used her to satisfy a lust he was afraid to claim, afraid to admit to. He shook his head. He didn’t want to play anymore games. He wanted it to end. He wanted to not be tired, to not feel so empty and useless. “Can’t we get this over with?”

Angelus had paced away, but was suddenly there, his face inches from Wesley’s. “Would you like that, Wes?”

Wesley shuddered as the vampire’s hands touched him. Very soon there would be no denying the only thing Wesley had left to want, not with just a towel between his desire and its object. Angelus pinched the nipple below Lilah’s marks, watching Wesley closely. Wesley scarcely moved, his body fighting against the lust. It was stronger than it ever had been with Lilah. Angelus smiled.

“I can smell it on you, Wes…” he taunted.

Wesley looked him in the eye. “I don’t care anymore,” he said softly, surprised at himself for saying it…for meaning it.

The vampire moved around behind Wesley, his hands moving up his naked back, his face close to his wet hair. “I could make you care,” the vampire whispered, his mouth behind Wesley’s ear. One hand snaked around Wesley’s waist, pushing the towel to the floor, the other pulled him slightly off balance, putting his weight against Angelus’ shoulder.

Wesley didn’t feel the teeth puncture his skin, but the sensation of Angelus drinking from him was strangely arousing. His eyes rolled back as the vampire’s hand wrapped around his cock and stroked him in rhythm with his mouth’s movements on Wesley’s neck. He couldn’t ever have asked for this, not even after dreaming of it.

“Do you have an idea how long I’ve wanted this?” Angelus asked, his mouth now back by Wesley’s ear.

Wesley could only moan in response, his strength gone, his body lost in an impending orgasm. Angelus pulled him back toward the bed and climbed up on it so that he could pull Wesley down, sitting with his back still to the vampire. Angelus made quick work of his jeans and shirt before returning to Wesley.

His hands went around Wesley to stroke him, while he kissed and licked his back. “I could kill you.” Angelus’ voice was deep, yet strangely casual. “I could fuck you, then kill you.”

“Angel, I—“

“Angelus,” he growled, his mouth over Wesley’s ear. “Tell me what you want, Wes.”

Wesley couldn’t think, the blood loss already contributing to the growing lethargy of his body, those hands touching him in places and ways he had never dreamed. He whimpered as the vampire’s mouth returned to the curve of his neck, and the dizzying pull of blood brought him closer to oblivion.

He could feel the hard length of cock against his back as Angelus continued his slow torment. He could feel his own hard cock in hands he knew could break him before he could even protest.

“Is this what you want, Wes?”

Wesley hissed, unable to speak as Angelus brought him to the edge of orgasm, then let go, turning his attention back to the wound in Wesley’s neck. How could he admit this? How could he speak his desire for this very thing? He tried to shake his head, but it was caught in the steel fingers of the vampire as Angelus held him for his pleasure.

“You want it Wes? You want to taste real evil? I can give you more than Lilah ever dreamed of.” His lips captured Wesley’s earlobe and Wesley moaned.

“I can take away the pain, make you more of a man than you ever dreamed.” Angelus moved him so that his knees were under him, his naked ass lifted from the bed. His every movement was slow, methodical. Wesley offered no resistance, only whimpers that seemed to spur Angelus on. “Is that what you want?” The words were whispered, but Wesley felt them in the very core of himself…cutting away at the last of his resolve, the last of his defense.

Wesley’s eyes closed, letting go of the weight of expectation and desire. Angel was behind him, he felt hands parting his ass, the cock slowly making its way into him…slowly pushing until he was deep inside. Wesley had never felt anything like it.

Then Angelus was feeding again, the dance dizzying as the blood pulled from his body, and the cock pushed into it. His body burned, and Wesley knew that this was how he would die, with his deepest desire turned to reality and his greatest fear realized. His eyes fluttered closed and he swallowed the panic bubbling within. He felt every movement Angelus made, every touch of his body against his own, the hand that stroked his cock, the tongue that licked his skin, the lips that pressed against him, the hard cock buried inside him that carried him closer and closer to his final release.

Angelus drank, and thrust, pushing Wesley closer and closer to death, closer and closer to an orgasm he would never forget.

“Do you want to taste it, Wes?” Angelus whispered. He didn’t wait for an answer, and Wesley knew that this was the last. He didn’t even taste the blood at first, not until it was already in his throat. Then he could feel the cut under his tongue, feel the strong arm pressed against his mouth. He froze for a moment. “Drink.” Angelus commanded, his voice low, dark. Then his mouth was once again pressed to Wesley’s flesh, his cock plunging into him.

Wesley was tired. God was he tired.

Wesley felt every inch of his body as it happened, as he let go, swallowing, surrendering to his body, to his death. Angelus came inside him. Wesley came in Angelus’ hand, roaring out the pleasure and pain and release as Angelus dropped him to the bed, not even aware of the blood that stained his mouth, or the tiny motions of death within him.

Wesley stared into the blackness that fell toward him, and felt a calm sweep through his ravaged body. All he had to do was let the darkness claim him. His eyes closed and he exhaled slowly…and was still.

Angelus watched him die, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He pulled on his jeans and went to the bed. Wesley lay sprawled across it, naked, bleeding. Angelus kissed him on the mouth. “Sleep good Wesley. I’ll be back before you wake up.”

 

Wesley heard movement. He lay still, listening. He was fairly certain he shouldn’t be hearing anything. He smelled…blood. Angelus was in the room…and someone else. He felt the bed move and opened his eyes. “Rise and shine, sleepy head.” Angelus said, smiling ridiculously at him. “You’ve been dead for hours. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up.”

“Dead?” He sat up slowly…the memory foggy. He looked at Angelus who was looking particularly pleased with himself. “You turned me.”

Angelus shrugged. “You asked for it.”

“I most certainly did not.”

Angelus kissed him, hard. “No, but you wanted it.”

Wesley had nothing to say to that. He couldn’t argue. “Are you hungry yet?” Angelus asked, his smile mischievous.

He had to admit he was ravished. The scent of blood made it worse. He felt his face change and ran his tongue over new fangs. “Famished.”

Angelus lifted a young woman from the ground near the bed and tossed her in Wesley’s lap. She was stunned, and Wesley could see the marks that said Angelus had already tasted her. He bit and drank, feeling the heat of her blood rush through him. It was intoxicating and when he felt her heartbeat slowly stopping he pulled his face from her lifeless body. He kissed Angelus then, sharing the last of her blood with him as their tongues danced together.

When at last he pulled back, Wesley smiled. “Next time you bring me breakfast in bed, I don’t want your sloppy seconds.

Angelus pushed the body off the bed and lay down beside Wesley, pulling him close. “Next time you can bring me breakfast in bed.”


End file.
